Castiel Novak and the Unfortunate Bludger Incident (Hogwarts AU Pt 2)
by lunalongbottom2448
Summary: Dean Winchester had been Castiel's best friend since the first day of their first year. Castiel had been sitting by himself in one of the cabins on the Hogwarts Express while he waited for the train to start moving. The last thing he expected was for the cabin door to slide open, but open it did, and a scrawny boy with dirty blonde hair and a shy smile stood in the doorway.


Castiel Novak was getting frustrated.

This, of course, was due to the fact that his best friend was an oblivious dick. Not that this was anything new, but Castiel could only stand so much. Still, he was nothing if not patient.

Dean Winchester had been Castiel's best friend since the first day of their first year. Castiel had been sitting by himself in one of the cabins on the Hogwarts Express, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt while he waited for the train to start moving. The last thing he expected was for the cabin door to slide open, but open it did, and a scrawny boy with dirty blonde hair and a shy smile stood in the doorway.

"Can I sit here? I don't really know anybody yet, and I think we're gonna be moving soon."

Castiel had simply nodded, still caught off guard by this sudden appearance, and he watched as the boy sat down on the seat across from him. Up close, Castiel immediately noticed the dusting of freckles covering his cheeks and the startlingly green shade of his eyes. Much to his embarrassment, Castiel began to blush.

Still smiling, the boy held out his hand for Castiel to shake. "Dean Winchester."

Finally getting his wits about him, Castiel reached out to shake Dean's hand. "Castiel Novak."

Dean's ever-present smile grew even brighter at Castiel's response, and Castiel couldn't help but smile back.

Dean was a warm, welcoming presence, chattering at Castiel the whole trip about how excited he was to finally be here after hearing so much about it, and he helped to distract Castiel from the anxiety gnawing at his insides. He had been waiting for this day for years, and his mother certainly hadn't done anything to relieve his nerves when she sent him off that morning with her encouraging pep talk: "Don't you dare mess this up."

His family came from a long line of Slytherins, and his mother, Naomi, had always been worried that he would break that line. This was understandable considering that Castiel was undeniably the black sheep of the family, never caring about any kind of power or ambition; he preferred the idea of peace and quiet. Unfortunately, that didn't sit so well with the rest of his family, and he could do nothing but wrong in their eyes. Although, this was excluding Anna and Balthazar, his two younger siblings who looked up to him like a saint, but even they managed to fit in where he could not.

The overwhelming pressure he was under to finally do something right for his family had been forcing him to dread this day, but Dean almost made him forget about his nerves. Towards the end of the trip, Castiel had loosened up enough that he was openly chuckling at Dean's jokes, and Dean had started calling him by a surprising nickname: "Cas." Coming from anyone else, it would have seemed strange, but Dean made it feel natural.

On their way off the train, Castiel was relieved to see that Dean stayed close to his side. They walked together all the way to the boats, and then made their way across the lake together as well. They didn't say much, but the company was comforting for both of them.

Castiel's heart sunk to the bottom of his chest when Dean was sorted into Gryffindor. Most Gryffindors and Slytherins had a bitter rivalry, and he had no desire to lose his only friend at Hogwarts. When he made his own way over to the Sorting Hat, hands shaking, and it was put on his head, he was distracted from his disappointment over Dean by just how long the hat was taking. Castiel sat in front of the silent, intimidating crowd of students for several tense minutes before the hat finally declared, "Hufflepuff."

Castiel didn't believe it at first. He was so shocked that he had to be led out of the chair and pushed towards the Hufflepuff table. He sat down without even thinking about it, hardly noticing all the pats on his back and greetings from his fellow housemates. All he could think about was the inevitable look of shame on his mother's face.

It was only when he looked up and met Dean's eyes at the Gryffindor table that he came back into focus. And when Dean gave him a big grin and a thumbs up, Castiel smiled back despite himself.

Despite the angry letters from his mother that thankfully began to lessen in frequency throughout the year, Castiel soon discovered that being a Hufflepuff wasn't so bad at all. In fact, it was better than he could have hoped for. Everyone was welcoming and eager to introduce themselves from the start, and before the end of his first week, Castiel already felt more at home here than he had ever felt with his family.

It didn't take him long to get to know all of the other first years in his house, and he got along especially well with Chuck Shurley. However, his best friend was always Dean, even though they were in separate houses. They spent all the time they could together, helping each other study (or in Castiel's case, convincing Dean to study), eating meals at the same table (despite it being frowned upon by traditionalists who believed the houses should be segregated), and even sneaking around after hours on occasion (usually Dean's idea). Between his own Hufflepuff friends and Dean's Gryffindor friends, namely Jo, Benny, and Charlie, Castiel was never at a loss for company.

With such an accepting group of people to surround himself with, he found himself worrying less and less about what his family thought of him. Unfortunately, it wasn't so easy to keep a nonchalant attitude when he was home for holidays, and it was nearly impossible during the summer. Throughout the entire summer break after his first year, his family took every opportunity to berate him for each minute detail he told them about his time at school. These complaints ranged from his grades to his eating habits, but what they most loved to criticize him for was his choice of friends. Gabriel, who had graduated from Hogwarts two years ago and currently owned a sweet shop in Diagon Alley, was totally indifferent. But Castiel's mother as well as Michael and Lucifer, his two oldest brothers who worked in the Ministry of Magic, seemed to find great joy in explaining to him just how depraved it was to associate with Halfbloods such as Dean, Jo, and Benny, and Castiel thought they might explode when he told them that Charlie was a Muggleborn. The only friend that his family approved of was Chuck, and this was simply because he was a Pureblood, like they were.

There were only two bright spots in this otherwise miserable summer. The first was Anna and Balthazar, who, unlike their other siblings, couldn't have cared less that Castiel's friends weren't Purebloods. Instead, they focused their attentions on eagerly peppering Castiel with question after question about Hogwarts. It was exhausting sometimes, but also endearing.

The second bright spot was his letters from Dean. They wrote each other on a regular basis, and while the days between letters were generally dull and frustrating, every day that Castiel did receive a letter was so brightened that he couldn't bring himself to care about his family's constant lecturing.

It was during this summer full of waiting desperately for school to start and missing Dean that Castiel came to a startling realization.

He had fallen in love with Dean.

Looking back, Castiel had to admit it made sense. It certainly explained the fluttery sensation in his chest whenever Dean smiled at him and the electricity that raced through him whenever Dean touched him. But Castiel immediately came to the conclusion that Dean only thought of him as a friend, and he resolved to lock his feelings away until they disappeared. After all, Castiel told himself, it was just a crush. It would soon go away, and he and Dean would be back to normal.

Little did he know how wrong he was.

On the first day of Castiel's second year, Anna was accompanying him, eager and nervous to begin her first year. When Dean and Castiel spotted each other a little ways apart on the platform, Dean broke into a run, pushing through people and practically knocking Castiel over with a bear hug. Castiel's smile was big enough to light up his whole face, and Dean was wearing one to match. Anna just stared up at the two of them with a bewildered and amused expression before they were all signaled that the train would be departing soon. Castiel and Dean went off in search of their friends' cabin, Anna in tow.

Their second year seemed to pass even more quickly than their first. It was much the same, expect for one major difference. Castiel joined the Quidditch team. He was a natural, and his speed and agility made him the perfect Seeker. With Castiel's help, Hufflepuff became a formidable competitor.

Their third year began with Castiel leading both Anna and Balthazar across the platform, and Dean leading his own brother, Sam. Sam was a ray of sunshine, and he and Castiel took to each other immediately, much to Dean's delight. According to Sam, Dean had told him all about Castiel, and the declaration made both Castiel and Dean flush bright shades of pink.

Castiel found himself with more friends this year than ever before. He had Dean, their third year friends, Sam, his own two siblings, and even a first year Hufflepuff named Jess who at first seemed intimidated by Castiel, but soon warmed up to him and managed to charm him with her sweet and unexpectedly sassy nature.

The next three years passed just as fast as the first three, and while some things changed, Castiel could always count on Dean to be there for him. In a way, Dean was his constant. He always knew to lighten the mood when Castiel needed it, more often than not by making some familiar quip to cheer him up, such as how Professor Crowley had looked even more bloated than usual in Potions that day. Dean was an eternal light in the darkness for Castiel, and despite his best efforts, he had never been able to put an end to his love for Dean; if anything, it only grew. He simply got better at suppressing it.

It was at the beginning of their seventh year that Castiel began to notice the possibility of Dean returning his feelings. Dean had started showing signs of jealously, especially whenever Meg Masters approached Castiel, and it could have just been friendly protectiveness, but Castiel reluctantly hoped it was something more. Even if it was, though, he had no intention of saying anything. He had lived with these feelings for six years, and a simple suspicion wasn't worth risking his friendship with Dean. He would leave it up to Dean to make the first move.

So yes, Castiel Novak was frustrated. He had a dick for a best friend, and he was about two seconds away from strangling said friend across the table where they were eating breakfast.

Granted, this wasn't currently due to Dean not being able to take a hint. At the moment, Castiel's main reason for frustration was their current topic of conversation.

"Dean, how many times have we discussed this?"

"Clearly not enough," Dean mumbled around a too-large mouthful of pancakes.

Castiel sighed. He really was a saint for putting up with this. "Look, I know you think Quidditch is the Devil's sport or something, but do we really have to argue about this every time I have a game?"

Dean huffed irritably, and Cas cringed at the pancake crumbs spewing from his mouth. "Until you agree with me, yes. People die in that sport, Cas!"

"Yes, you've mentioned that," Cas sighed. "But you've yet to tell me who."

Dean opened his mouth to come back with a no-doubt ingenious retort, but he stalled when he seemed to realize he had no answer, as per usual. "I dunno, people," he said defensively.

Cas smiled with exasperation as Dean blushed before averting his eyes from Cas's own and back to his plate. Dean began to scoop up more pancakes, most likely to avoid further embarrassing himself.

"Dean?" Dean grumbled something inaudible under his breath, but otherwise ignored Castiel.

Sighing once more, Cas reached his hand halfway across the table to get Dean's attention. It proved effective, and Dean's head popped up in apparent surprise. He glanced once at Castiel's hand on the table in front of him before pointedly focusing his attention back on Castiel's face.

Satisfied, Castiel continued, "I know that you're afraid of flying, which is fine, by the way. I know you're worried about me, and I appreciate it. But I'll be fine. I've been playing for years and nothing's ever happened, right?"

Still grumbling, although more audibly this time, Dean replied, "Yeah..."

Castiel smiled encouragingly. "See, no reason to worry! It'll be great. You're gonna be there, aren't you?"

Dean gave him a small smirk in return. "Always am." After a moment's hesitation, his smile grew and he continued, "Of course, it doesn't hurt that the best Seeker at Howarts just happens to be my best friend, too. Wouldn't miss watching him kick some Slytherin ass for the world."

Now it was Castiel's turn to blush, and Dean chuckled triumphantly at the sight.

"Asshole," Castiel said, glaring at Dean's cocky grin.

"But a sweet asshole." Dean winked, and Castiel found himself tempted to either slap him or kiss him. Maybe both...

Castiel covered up his contrasting emotions by rolling his eyes, and surely would have come back with a witty insult of some sort, but he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder and Chuck telling him with an excited grin, "Show time, Cas."

Castiel nodded absentmindedly as Chuck walked off through the aisle between the tables and out the door. Castiel stood to gather his bags, robe, and scarf, and just as he was about to say "goodbye," Dean interjected with, "Just be careful, okay, Cas?"

Castiel was shocked by the sincere tone of voice, a rare occurrence, but one that sent butterflies bumping about in his stomach. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to wipe that tight, clearly nervous smile off Dean's face and replace it with his real one, the one that never failed to make Castiel weak at the knees. Instead, he simply copied Dean by replying, "Always am," before taking off with one last wave. He felt Dean's eyes on him as he walked away, but he couldn't quite bring himself to look back.

As soon as Castiel left the Great Hall, he felt his adrenaline beginning to build. Keeping a fast, eager pace all the way to the locker room, he managed to arrive with plenty of time to spare. His teammates were all at various stages of changing into their yellow Quidditch robes, and he hurried over to his own locker to join them. After they had all collected their gear and brooms, the team stood in a loose circle to listen to their captain's pep talk. Ezekiel was captain this year, and while Castiel had been jealous of his cousin at first, he couldn't be happier for him now. Ezekiel loved Quidditch just as much as Castiel did, and they had grown up playing it together whenever they had the chance, so getting to play with him on a real team had always been one of the many things that Castiel loved about their team.

Of course, it also didn't hurt that Ezekiel wasn't his only friend here. Ezekiel was the Keeper, Chuck, Samandriel, and Garth were Chasers, and Jess and Tessa were Beaters. The whole group had bonded almost immediately, which was surely one of the reasons they were such a strong team. Even the younger members, like Samandriel and Jess, had found themselves welcomed with open arms from the first moment after they joined. And although Castiel was closest to Chuck, Jess, and Ezekiel, he had grown very fond of and attached to them all, and he would miss them after he graduated at the end of the year.

Ezekiel stood directly to Castiel's right, and Castiel listened fondly and with no shortage of amusement while Ezekiel began his trademark pep talk. It was more or less the same choice of words every time, usually including a "you've all worked so hard" here and a "I believe in you all" there, but Ezekiel spoke with so much sincerity and confidence in his team that it almost always felt new and fresh.

Finishing off with a hearty, "Slytherin won't know what hit them," Ezekiel led the rest of his team out onto the field. As usual, Castiel took the opportunity to let his eyes sweep around the stadium, getting an idea for where his family and friends were sitting.

The stands were packed even more than usual due to this being the first game of the year, but Castiel still spotted Anna and Balthazar in the Slytherin section with no trouble, mainly due to Anna's fiery hair, and when he noticed them waving enthusiastically, he smiled and gave a tiny wave in return. Sam and Dean sat in their respective Ravenclaw and Gryffindor stands, each surrounded by his individual group of friends, Dean's including Charlie, Jo, and Benny, as usual.

When Castiel looked over, he saw Dean perk up and let out what Castiel supposed was a shrill whistle, although the din of the stadium was far too loud for him to make it out. He was always thrilled when Dean made the effort to indulge his love of Quidditch, despite Dean's own reservations about the game. Castiel went to all the games throughout the year, whether he was playing or not, and so far Dean had accompanied him to every one, even going so far as to sit in the Hufflepuff stands with him. Castiel might have felt guilty if he had been pressuring Dean to attend, but he never even needed to ask. Dean joined him at all the games of his own volition, and Castiel couldn't have been more grateful. Not that Dean was a Quidditch fan by any means. He rarely got invested in the games they watched, although he did cheer a bit louder when Gryffindor was on the field. But whenever Hufflepuff played, Dean practically lit up from the inside out. Even if he couldn't hear it, all Castiel had to do when he was flying around the stadium was sneak a glance over at the Gryffindor stands, and he was sure to find Dean wearing a proud grin and cheering at the top of his lungs, all fears about the dangers of Quidditch temporarily forgotten.

As Castiel crossed the field with his team at his side, Dean's eagerness brightened Castiel's spirits impossibly more so, and he gave Dean a wave that was almost imperceptibly larger than the one he had given his siblings. And with that, he brought his full attention to the match in front of them.

Without a doubt, the Slytherin team was their biggest competition. All of the teams had something unique to offer, as well as different tricks up their sleeves, but Slytherin tended to favor the "borderline foul" approach. They were ruthless, even occasionally violent, which didn't bode well for the more subtle Hufflepuffs. The principle cause for Slytherin's questionable tactics was undoubtedly one of their Beaters, and team captain, Raphael. He had joined the team in his third year, and since then the Slytherins had become a force to be reckoned with. He led them to frequent, and arguably unfair victories, and was not surprisingly quite unpopular among the other houses' teams.

Even now, Raphael was glaring down the Hufflepuffs as both houses surrounded Professor Turner, the referee for this match.

"This better be a fair game now, you hear? I'll be watching you all like a hawk," the professor said gruffly. Unsurprisingly, his gaze landed several times on Raphael, a crystal clear (but most likely useless) warning.

"Mount your brooms."

The two teams settled on their brooms, and with a loud blast of the professor's whistle, they flew up to the appropriate height before all zooming off in different directions. Castiel flitted around, careful to dodge approaching Bludgers and nearby players, constantly searching for a flash of gold. The Slytherin Seeker, Brady, did the same, although they mostly stayed on opposite sides of the field.

Almost half an hour into the game, Hufflepuff beating Slytherin by only a slim margin, Castiel saw the Snitch. It was hovering almost half the length of the field away from him and he was just about to zoom towards it when he saw a Bludger racing at him out of the corner of his eye. He ducked just in time, but right as he started moving in the direction of the Snitch again, he felt a tremendous, dizzying pain fill his head, and suddenly he couldn't tell which way was up or down. Through his confusion and panic, he could have sworn he heard loud screams and gasps from the crowd, but any such thoughts were silenced when he made a very solid impact with an even more solid surface and blacked out completely.

The next thing Castiel knew, he was lying on his back on the damp grass of the Quidditch field, staring up at a hoard of surrounding people blocking any view he might otherwise have of the sky. His ears were cottony, but through the haze he was sure he heard Dean's voice. It sounded like he was telling everyone to give Castiel space, and when the crowd partially cleared to allow Dean's face to enter his line of sight, Castiel felt relief mingling with the intense pain in his head, his arm... basically everywhere. He noted the sensation of hands supporting his head, his last conscious thought before blacking out once more.

When he finally woke up again, he couldn't figure out where he was when he first opened his eyes, just that he was inside. It was only when he managed to tilt his head up that he realized he was in the hospital wing, but the throbbing in the back of his skull soon made him regret moving, and he set his head back down, groaning and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Hey, you're awake! Thank God, you've been out for hours. I think Dean was this close to a mental breakdown."

Castiel cracked his eyelids open to confirm that Sam was sitting in a chair beside the bed, a book propped open in his lap. Castiel took a few more moments to process the situation before asking, "What happened?" in a scratchy voice.

Sam reached over to the bedside table to pour a glass of water as he said, "Well, the short version is you've got a concussion and a broken arm." Sam nodded his head at the cast Castiel had previously failed to notice on his left arm. "But besides that, I guess it depends on how much you remember." Sam handed the glass to Castiel who took it gratefully and cautiously with his right hand as he sat up again, more slowly this time, to take a sip.

The water soothed his parched throat, and in a much clearer voice Castiel answered, "I remember seeing the Snitch. And then I ducked the Bludger, but everything after that is sort of a blur..."

Sam snorted, a mirthless smile on his lips, before saying, "That wasn't the only Bludger. It was just a distraction."

"Wait, what?" Castiel sat up even further, his confusion and curiosity even further piqued.

"Raphael and Uriel, they planned the whole thing. Or I guess Raphael did more of the planning, Uriel was just the helper." Sam's smirk sunk into a frown at the next revelation. "They were waiting for you to spot the Snitch. Uriel sent that first Bludger at you to distract you, and Raphael snuck up from behind with another one. Nobody saw it coming until it happened, and then you were just... falling." Sam visibly shuddered. "It was pretty scary. And then everyone was screaming and asking if you were okay, and a bunch of us ran down to check on you, but we couldn't even see you through all the people at first, and then Dean started yelling himself hoarse telling people to move, give you some air. And by the time we'd got to you, Madam Moseley had already showed up and she levitated you in here." Sam only then seemed to realize that he had been speaking with shamefully few breaks for breathing, and took a moment to catch his breath.

Castiel was speechless throughout Sam's explanation, but now that he knew what was going on, he wasn't surprised in the least. This might have been his first Quidditch-related injury besides some bruising, but it certainly wasn't the first that Raphael had inflicted on anyone. He was notorious for sending people to the hospital wing, so Castiel had almost been expecting this to happen at some point or other. And it could have been a lot worse, he told himself. With Madam Moseley talking care of him, he would be back to normal within a week.

Then another thought occurred to Castiel, and he said, "I'm going to assume that we lost the game."

"Um, yeah... Brady got the Snitch right after they knocked you out. It might've been dirty, but Turner said that the only important thing was who caught the Snitch." Sam grimaced like he had a sour taste in his mouth, but Castiel was once again unsurprised, even though he knew he would feel guilty about the loss for quite some time.

With most of his questions answered, albeit with disappointing results, Castiel's mind inexplicably focused on the subject of his last thought before passing out the second time. "How's Dean?"

Distracted from his clear anger towards the situation, Sam smiled as soon as Castiel voiced his concern. At first, Castiel had to keep himself from squirming. He had always been a bit paranoid that Sam might know how he felt about Dean, and now he worried that Sam might be reading into the question more than Castiel had intended. But his concerns proved needless after what Sam said next.

"Probably still waiting for Madam Moseley's salve to fix his knuckles." Sam's chest seemed to be puffed up with pride, which made no sense to Castiel.

"Wait, why do Dean's knuckles need fixing?" Castiel sat up again, and he was sure the worry was etched all over his face.

Sam just continued to smile, and said, "Cause he punched Raphael."

"He did _what_?" Castiel asked in alarm, eyes wide.

"Right in the nose," Sam continued as if he hadn't heard Castiel. "Just after Madam Moseley got to you. Dean wouldn't leave you 'till then. She was setting you up on the stretcher, and he stomped over to Raphael and his friends all laughing and high-fiving, and he punched him. You should have seen Raphael's face, I don't think anyone's ever seen him look that surprised." Sam smiled even wider at the thought. "And I'm pretty sure Dean would've kicked him into the ground if Turner hadn't pulled him away first."

Castiel felt his face heating up in a blush, torn between frowning on Dean's behavior and relishing in his protectiveness. Despite his better judgement, a tiny smile of his own grew to mirror Sam's.

"Where is he now?" Castiel asked, rather disappointed that Dean was nowhere to be seen.

"Heh, well that's sorta my fault." Sam was the picture of sheepishness as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I might have come in here half an hour ago and told him to go get some food and walk around? He hadn't even stood up in hours. Kept going on about how he had to be here when you woke up. You want me to go get him?"

"That would be nice, thank you, Sam." Castiel smiled, a little burst of excitement filling his chest.

"Least I can do for having the world's worst timing." Sam gave Castiel one last apologetic look before putting his book on the table and walking out the wide hospital wing doors.

Castiel didn't have long to wait. Only five minutes later, he heard Dean's angry voice coming down the hall, as well as Sam's much higher-pitched, defensive one.

They burst through the doors, Dean just ahead of Sam. Dean's furrowed brow relaxed when he saw Castiel sitting up and smiling, and his grin was impossibly large when Castiel said, "Hello, Dean."

Dean quickly strode over to Castiel's bed and pulled him into a firm, yet unexpectedly gentle hug. Castiel was too caught off guard to move for a moment, but he soon recovered and reciprocated just as eagerly, despite his injured arm, reveling in the warm embrace.

Neither Castiel nor Dean seemed to have any idea how long the hug went on for, but it was long enough for Sam to cough uncomfortably in the background. Dean pulled away then (much to Castiel's chagrin) and sent a glare over his shoulder at Sam. Both Dean and Castiel's cheeks burned bright red with embarrassment.

"Um, I've gotta go...," Sam mumbled, obviously eager to escape his brother's wrath. "Glad you're feeling better, Cas," he said with one last smile before grabbing his book off the table and making a beeline for the door.

As soon as he was gone, Dean said, "I'm gonna kill that kid. Him and all his awesome timing. And I'll throw in ol' Mutant Ninja Turtle while I'm at it."

Castiel chuckled at Dean's petulant grumblings, despite not understanding the Muggle reference (one of many that Dean was so fond of using), and Dean rewarded his amusement with a glare of his own, even if it was far less powerful than the one with which he had graced Sam. But Castiel sobered when Dean's scowl faded and he continued, "Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up."

Castiel's heart melted at the genuine regret lacing every word. "Don't worry about it. And I'd rather you didn't kill Sam, I'm glad he thought to get you on your feet." Dean snorted but didn't protest anymore. "And as for Raphael, it sounds like you've already taken care of him."

The blush that Dean sported at that comment rivaled his earlier one, and he started fiddling with a loose thread on his robe. "Of course Sam told you about that," he said, glancing towards the door as if Sam would still be there for him to scold.

"You weren't punished for it, were you?" Castiel asked hopefully.

"Just some detention. I don't think anyone was too sympathetic for Raphael after everything that happened, professors included." Dean's initial discomfort with the subject was quickly transforming into pride, and Castiel rolled his eyes at his friend's smug expression.

"It was worth it, by the way. Just wish I'd gotten a couple more hits in," said Dean.

As he talked, some of Dean's self-satisfaction was replaced with a protective gaze that rendered Castiel temporarily mute. He fished for anything to say, determined not to appear totally head over heels, and eventually ended up with, "Sam says we lost the game."

Dean momentarily appeared nonplussed by Castiel's unsubtle change of topic, but Castiel was relieved when he just went with it. "Yeah, nobody's cheering too hard for Slytherin right now, though. You're not blaming yourself or something stupid like that, are you?"

Castiel cringed. Dean knew him far too well. Apparently taking this reaction as his answer, Dean huffed and said, "You've gotta be kidding me, Cas. Guy practically throws you off your broom, and you still manage to convince yourself it's your fault."

Cas frowned, replying, "I'm just worried about my team, Dean. I let them down today. I should have seen it coming, been more vigilant."

"He was behind you, Cas, you never would have seen him!" Dean seemed about two seconds from throwing his hands in the air out of pure frustration. "And your team is fine, you should be worrying more about _you_."

Castiel scoffed dismissively, saying, "I'm gonna be out of here in a couple days at most, Dean. It's really not a big deal."

Dean looked personally offended and hurt that Castiel wasn't more troubled, and his voice dropped to a nearly inaudible volume when he said, "Well, it is to me."

Even after all of Dean's open protectiveness, violence included, it was only now that Castiel fully realized just how shaken Dean was by the whole incident. He looked so vulnerable all of a sudden, and Castiel was filled with shame at the sight for his nonchalance.

Dean's eyes couldn't have been wider when Castiel reached towards him with his good arm and grabbed Dean's hand where it had been tapping nervously on his thigh. Dean responded with yet another blush, this one so strong it reached his ears, but he made no move to pull away. The intense stare he pinned Castiel with made it plain that he understood the intended apology and gratitude, and he squeezed Castiel's hand in return.

After a strangely comfortable silence, Castiel let go of Dean's hand, a teasing smile hinting at the corners of his mouth as he said, "You know, you still haven't said 'I told you so.'"

Dean barked a short laugh. "Would it do any good?" he asked knowingly.

"Not one bit," Castiel replied with a full-fledged grin. "And I'm still going to play Quidditch, just so you know."

Dean shook his head, a fond and teasing glint in his eyes. "Well you wouldn't be Cas if you let a little concussion get you down, I guess. But I reserve the right to keep bugging you about it."

"I'm counting on it. And while I do appreciate you 'defending my honor' and all that, no more punching people, please."

"Sorry, can't guarantee that, Cas. Knowing you and your infamous trouble streak, there's gonna be plenty of people I'll have to beat up for you."

"Well, you wouldn't be Dean if you didn't."

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This is just a reminder that each individual part of this story will be posted in separate installments, so unfortunately following this one won't let you know when the next has been updated. So if you'd like to keep up with this, please follow my account instead! Thanks again! :)


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